Page 60 of Ashes of Us
"Piper?"
I looked up. Daniel was watching me, wine glass halfway to his mouth, that patient expression settling over his features.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you wanted to split the calamari." He set down his glass. "But you're not here, are you?"
My chest tightened. "I'm here."
"You're sitting across from me. That's not the same thing." He wasn't angry. Just... observant. That's who Daniel was: steady, perceptive, unfailingly kind.
He folded his hands on the table, fingers laced together. "I need to tell you something."
My stomach dropped.
Oh god. This was it. He was going to say something romantic or propose we move in together or ask where this was going, and I was going to have to tell him I didn't know. That I'd been checked out for weeks. That I'd been lying to both of us by pretending everything was fine.
I set down the breadstick. "Daniel?—"
"It's not what you're thinking," he said, and there was something almost amused in his voice. "I can see it on your face. You look like you're about to bolt. No, it's notthat."
I exhaled, shoulders dropping. "Okay."
"I got a job offer." He picked up his wine glass, took a sip. "Portland. Better pay, better benefits, chance to work with a trauma team I've been following for years."
He paused, watching my face. His thumb traced the stem of the wine glass, a nervous habit I'd noticed before when he wasn't sure how something would land.
"I took it."
Portland.
He was moving to Portland.
I should have felt something. Maybe sadness, surprise, or the sharp sting of abandonment. Instead, what bubbled up was relief so profound it made my chest loosen.
"When?" I asked.
"Six weeks. They want me to start as soon as I can.” He was still watching me, reading my reaction like he'd read so many patients in the back of his ambulance. "I had my eyes on this team for a long time. Since before…” He gestured vaguely between us. "This has been coming."
"The job?"
"Yeah. But also..." He set down his wine glass and leaned back against the booth. "Us. This. Whatever we've been doing for the past few months."
My throat felt tight. "Daniel?—"
"It's okay." His voice was gentle. "I'm not mad. I'm not hurt. I just think we both know this isn't working."
The honesty hit me like cold water. He wasn’t being cruel, just honest.
"I care about you," I said, because I did. I really did.
"I know. I care about you too." He smiled. "But caring about someone and being in love with them aren't the same thing. And neither of us are in love here, are we?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. He… he was right.
"When did you know?" I asked quietly.
"That I wasn't in love with you?" He considered this, fingers still tracing the wine glass. "Honestly? Probably around month three. But I liked you. I liked spending time with you. And you seemed happy enough, so I figured..." He shrugged. "Maybe it would grow into something more."
